On the Mandatum … yes, it is a beautiful ceremony. But that does not mean that it needed to be added into the middle of the Mass of Holy Thursday — a total innovation. Normally the mandatum is conduced AS A SEPARATE SERVICE, and it is not to be performed in choro. It can easily be conducted as a separate service in the afternoon, especially in monasteries, collegiate churches, and cathedrals. But even in parishes this is possible. This is the practice, for example, at St Clement’s (Anglican) church in Philadelphia. Take a look at the criticism of the new Holy Week made by Monsignor Gromier.

Let’s hope that more and more traditional communities (not only sedevacantists!) return to the pre-Bugnini Holy Week.

The changes to Holy Week are probably the most alarming liturgical changes before Vatican II, but there were others as well: the barbaric elimination of so many octaves, the abolition of “superstitious” feasts like St John at the Latin Gate and the Invention of the Holy Cross, etc. Not good!

It’s a bit tough dealing with things from the other end, too, however. You have to live with the sad legacy of brides before you. It got very tiresome countering objections to our appeal for an EF wedding to the tune of, “but there’s no place for the unity candle in the Latin Mass” or “do you know, you won’t even be allowed to share the peace with all your guests?” Good grief. There was also an initial mix-up with the Latin Mass community wherein somebody got the idea that we didn’t even have any history with the Traditional Latin Mass, and that we only wanted to be married in one as a kind of quaint, colorful novelty. It wasn’t really anybody’s fault — I think it was just one of those “telephone” sorts of things where one person misunderstood something, explained it to somebody else in a way that was further misunderstood, and so on and so forth. Once I figured out what had happened, I contacted the person in charge, and everything was quickly and amicably cleared up; after that the whole community was, as I said before, perfectly wonderful to us. Though I never got the whole back story, I gathered that their suspicion was born of actual experience with nuptial novelty-seekers, and you can imagine the catastrophes that might easily have arisen that way. But honestly, it really had not occurred to me that I would need to make special effort to distinguish myself from people like that!

It also seemed a little unfair how I was expected to arrange so many things, mostly relating to the pleasure and convenience of guests, and yet if I adopted too much of a take-charge attitude I’d notice little smiles and smirks that obviously meant, “ah yes, they all get like this eventually…” I just mention this to explain why I’m now a touch sensitive about blanket criticisms of brides. For all their genuinely unfortunate tendencies, they are in the unhappy position of having responsibilities without any corresponding acknowledgment of authority to help them carry out the jobs. For that at least, they deserve a little pity.

But now that I think about it, you’re perfectly right that most people should not be seeking out a church to be married in. We were an unusual case, I suppose. I didn’t really have a parish at the time (I had to join one solely in order to get pastoral permissions to be married outside of it); as often as possible I’d been going to Mass at St. Michael’s, the FSSP parish in Scranton where the Doctor and were both received into the Church. But it was outside our diocese, so we couldn’t officially be members. I suppose we could have still have been married there, but since we had no other connections whatsoever to Scranton, that would have seemed a bit odd. As converts we also had no historical ties to any parishes in the regions where our families lived. And when it came to finding a church in San Diego, the building was really all we needed, because the FSSP priest who baptized us had agreed to come out to say the Mass, and the San Diego Latin Mass community was providing everything else from choir to vestments to altar boys. If you need a church purely for the building itself, you naturally look for a beautiful one.

However, I can honestly say that aisle length played no role whatsoever in the selection!

From the Catholic Encyclopedia article for Good Friday. So even this has precedent. And there is nothing wrong *in principle* with the other clergy and the laity communicating on Good Friday.

I suppose we’re in substantial agreement, but if we use the word “evil” in its Medieval sense, i.e. “a lack of being and goodness where such being and goodness ought to be,” then we see that the OF is evil in some respects, however valid if properly celebrated. But why continue celebrating the OF at all?

I agree with your last post completely. The entire Ordinary Form is utterly unhistoric. It is the creation of men and a rupture with the past. No one can validly argue otherwise. A study of it’s history proves the rupture.

But I do think that Christ would not have allowed the OF to be promulgated if it were evil. I trust in His promise that the Church will not be subjugated by the powers of hell. Unfortunately, that promise applies to the Church, not the priests who celebrate the OF. The way they celebrate Mass is their responsibility, though the bishops and popes bear some of it by not putting an end to the abuses. Had things been done differently we mignt not be in the crisis we are in. Ultimately I believe it comes down to priestly holiness and integrity, two qualities which seem to have been lost over the past fifty plus years.

I say this as having been one of “them.” My first Mass was less than examplery. I thought I was doing right thing. I was doing what I was taught, what I experienced. But I believe Our Lady and Saint Alphonsus have continued to guide me and helped me see the truth. A priest is first to save his own soul and then those of others. He must take seriously Christ’s admonition to seek first the Kingdom of God. If one does that, the rest seems to fall into place as Christ said they would. A holy virtuous priest will strive to celebrate the sacraments in accord with the mind of the Church, not the mind of people in the Church.

You ask what criteria should a person in the same situation as you were use? First and foremost, a holy priest. As to the church, a place that is worthy of the celebration of the sacraments. But again, you are the exception to the rule. A couple should be married in the brides parish church or if she is not Catholic the groom’s. She is part of a parochial community. Just because there is a more beautiful church down the street is no reason to go there. After all, de gustibus. Ultimately, the building itself really shouldn’t matter much at all. What’s most important is the sacrament, not the church in which it is celebrated. The building has no bearing on the graces or efficacy of the sacrament. My cousin, a Catholic, recently rejected a Catholic wedding because she wanted it outside and not in Church. Hence they are not married. She thinks the Church was just trying to control her wedding. Well, it wasn’t her wedding. She didn’t institute the Sacrament of Matrimony. Christ did. And weddings are public celebrations of the Sacred Liturgy, not private affairs. There is no such thing a private Liturgy. Given that the Chruch has rules and regulations to order the proper celebration of the Sacrament. So the question I have for the bride and groom is, what is more important, the sacrament or the ceremony? If the sacrament is truly important then everything else is secondary. If the ceremony is more important, and it seems to be so for a good number of brides, then we have some problems.

So it’s not about “ditzy” brides. It’s about Catholic brides who really have no clue as to what that means. That doesn’t mean they aren’t intelligent, capable women. It means that when it comes to Catholicism, they are sorely lacking in their education.

My point is that by allowing the priest to make such significant choices in the Liturgy, the OF reinforces in his mind the error that he and his community should “create” the Liturgy afresh every time they come together. Clearly this error is quite widespread, especially in this country. I would simply encourage you to realize that those eight options you’ve listed, especially the fourth, are utterly inhistoric and subconsciously reaffirm such a deleterious attitude.

For the rest, though, I do believe you, and even I have occasionally been regaled with stories of “that awful priest who told us we should stop living together before the wedding” or things of that nature. I’m sure it happens, often. On the other hand, when I was planning my own wedding a year ago, I got kind of tired of people patronizing me and assuming that I must be an airheaded nitwit just because I was a bride-to-be. Non-silly women have weddings too! Give us a chance!

Maximillian, you make it sound as if there are unending choices to be made. In reality there are very few.
1- Greeting
2- Form of the penitential rite
3- Sometimes the preface
4- Eucharistic Prayer
5- Memorial Acclamation at said Masses
6- Intorduction to the Lord’s Prayer
7- Form of Last Blessing
8- Dismissal (if no deacon is present)
Of these most are pretty minor (1,2,5,6,7,8). And the Eucharistic Prayer is not always ad libatum.

As to being simply servants of the liturgy, priests are much more than that. Without them there is no liturgy. Making use of options does not make priests creators of liturgy. That is absurd. The OF Mass does not come out of the thoughts or imagination of the priest. He uses what is given to him. Unfortunately many priests go beyond what is legitimately allowed, but one cannot say that what they do is the accepted rubric.

Alright, new proposal for a banned topic: ritual nudity. Never, ever again. Please and thanks. Not my post, not my thread, but/so I ask Clara and the other bloggers here if that sounds good to them.

Tobias and Clara: I’m glad I was able to provide a compromise with significant historic support that both of you could agree on. Baptisms are suitably celebrated in the nude (and therefore in a more intimate setting) because Baptism represents both rebirth and being washed from one’s sins. No one is born clothed or bathes with his closthes on, so why should people be baptized in clothing? A triumphant procession of the Neophytes clothed in white garments back into the main body of the Church during the Vigil would easily signify the more communal aspect of Baptism; namely, that by Baptism, the baptized enter the community of the Church.

Ambrosius: I must side with Arturo on this one. While Pope St. Pius X was quite saintly, nevertheless his saintliness does not put all of his prudential judgments beyond the realm of legitimate, constructive criticism. Of course, such criticism is always an activity involving contrary to fact conditions, because we do not know what would have happened had the Holy Father acted differently.

Fr. Bailey: My point about the Easter Vigil (and all other OF celebrations) stands. Namely, which of the plethora of options given to individual priests even in the Editio Typica Latin text of the New Missal should a given community use? Indeed, it is precisely the plethora of options that makes it impossible for a given priest only to “read the black and do the red.” Which black options should he read and which red options should he follow? I sincerely believe that if Pope Benedict wanted to clean up the Novus Ordo he would have to take the right away from you priests to chose at random which Eucharistic Prayer to use on a daily basis. If you’re simply the servants of the Liturgy and not its creators, you shouldn’t have the right to chose the Eucharistic Prayer on a whim; and this “right” you definitely do have, even if you chose not to exercise it.

I was trying to get us to consider a very important question: How can we fittingly judge if and how the Liturgy should change?

That being the case, Father, you might have a bit of insight into the kind of expectations placed on brides! Though actually, as far as nervousness goes, I have to say that I was hardly nervous at all when I got married. Not that it wasn’t “a big deal” of course, but it just seemed such a happy and natural development, nothing to be nervous about. Not a bit like baptism. Life is funny.

Tobias Petrus, you wrote: “I imagine that many priests have similar feelings to yours at the time of their ordination — humility, fear, apprehension, leave-taking — yet the ordination is still public.”

Boy, is that the truth. If you want to see a bunch of grown men at their most vulnerable, watch them being ordained. Talk about being naked in front of a crowd! Just me and the bishop would have been fine. But it doesn’t work that way. The people have a right to be there just like they have a right to be present at every baptism. The priest is ordained for the people. The baptizandus is baptized into Christ and thus into the Church which is the people.

One thing I learned that day was that feelings are fickle. I was supposed to feel joy, elation, holiness, transformed, etc. I was so concerned with what I had to do and what I had to say that I didn’t feel any of that. I could hardly keep my focus on what was happening to me spiritually and ontologically. Thank God for ex opere operato. Actors on stage go through weeks of rehearsals. Ordinands have only one…and it isn’t really a rehearsal. When it was over I had to make sure guests got to the reception and then to their hotels or the airport.

So Clara, I understand what you’re saying. I think it’s just one of those things in life that, though difficult or unpleasant, has to be done. It’s a small price to pay considering what you get.

I am sorry. I just thought that second guessing Popes is the favorite pastime of Roman Catholic traditionalists.

I don’t think that St. Pius X was in bad faith nor do I think he was a bad Pontiff in any respect. However, the road to hell… (and so on and so forth).

And if we are going to start to argue about the antiquity of practices, we can start talking about the famous Patristic proof texts for Communion in the hand, unless you want to argue that Communion in the hand is inherently evil. We should thank God that the original Patristic practice was restored against all of those who thought they “knew better”.

But then we just start chasing our tails, so I’ll end it there.

Also, I wanted to insert a plea: have a little pity for brides! It isn’t always we who insert ourselves into the center of everything. As you learn when you get married, your wedding is important to more than just you, and it’s no small chore to send everyone home happy (or at least pacified.) Though I was determined to be a non-fussy bride (and I hope that I was, comparatively speaking!) I quickly discovered that when it comes to wedding preparations, the buck stops with the bride. Other people helped significantly, of course, but the automatic instinct seemed to be to refer things back to me. Got a problem? Call the bride. Have a suggestion? Get in touch with the bride. Did something not turn out right? Yeah, the bride should really have taken some precautions for that. I was amazed at how much unsolicited advice I received about things I must or must not do… always with the understanding, of course, that I would take care of whatever it was. I hate bossing people around, but once or twice adopting the Bridezilla persona was absolutely necessary for getting somebody else to fulfill their undertaken obligations. At least it has the advantage of inspiring fear, it apparently being assumed by everyone that Hell hath no fury like a woman whose wedding isn’t perfect.

I’m not denying that brides can get very, very silly and selfish about their weddings. Just reminding you that even the ones who don’t want to be that way might be juggling some pretty serious expectations and obligations from other people.

For the record, one notable exception to the above bit about hard-to-work-with people was the San Diego Latin Mass community, who, once we had all the permissions and paperwork squared away, took over entirely and arranged the whole Nuptial Mass without any further help or input from me (except for a few questions about music), which was wonderful. And the Mass, too, was wonderful. God bless those people! Though we made a voluntary donation afterwards, they never asked us for a penny, apparently motivated just by love of liturgy and compassion on some fellow Traditional Catholics who were trying to get married without any home parish to help them.

Yet all of those things were determined by the moment of Baptism. When theologians contrast the waters of Baptism and Penance, they usually make tears of sorrow the trait of Penance. The reason for private confession has alot to do with shame, which the convert need not have, for Baptism does not make the convert confess to past personal sins. I would not mind being publically absolved from sin, it is the confession itself that I wish to keep private. The convert confesses to nothing but the Creed and the Baptismal promises. As Fr. Bailey, noted the penitents’ re-entrance into the life of the Church is public. Likewise with the convert’s first entry.

Even if we make allowances for what Maximilian says vis-a-vis the relative intimacy of baptisteries and the distinction between the Baptismal Rite and the Vigil Mass itself, it still seems to be different from an individualized Baptism at some other time of the year. The catechumens all formed a class, took part in public scrutinies, were baptized on the same day, and took part together for the first time in the Easter liturgy. Maybe his suggestion does justice to both sides of the issue.

I imagine that many priests have similar feelings to yours at the time of their ordination — humility, fear, apprehension, leave-taking — yet the ordination is still public.

Are there any other converts out there with some perspective on what it was like to enter the Church at the Easter Vigil, or privately? Maximilian, Iosephe, etc., please speak up. Were there any pitfalls to the way you entered.

“Then the neophytes could rejoin the congregation, perhaps in a sufficiently noticeable way that the point about being received into the community would be made.”

I’m thinking of the white baptismal gowns.

Still, I would still make a few rejoinders to what you say:

First, as to the differences between converts and cradle Catholics. I wasn’t trying to imply that cradle Catholics lead tranquil, painless lives without ever having to make sacrifices for the faith. I apologize if I left that impression. Still, it’s true that they have never experienced baptism as Christian initiation. The process of conversion to a Christlike life may be ongoing, and there may be lots of relapses and returns along the way, but that’s still not quite the same as what happens to the convert when he relegates his whole life (even the good-seeming parts!) to his pagan past, and commits to orienting his life in an entirely new way. I have a certain holy envy for cradle Catholics sometimes, and it pleases me to think that any children the Doctor and I have will be cradle Catholics. Though we converts do contribute something of our own, I hope, it still seems that cradle Catholics can sometimes achieve a certain sort of “wholeness” in their Catholic life that is out of reach for us. I don’t mean that things are easy for them, but even through hard times, their whole lives can in a sense be set to a Catholic theme. Their faith is their inheritance, the tradition of their fathers, both their first and their final home. By contrast, the convert’s very inclusion in the Body of Christ is premised on a rebellion against family, home, and the customs that shaped and gave meaning to his childhood. So sure, cradle Catholics can identify with certain elements of this experience, but it really isn’t quite the same.

But also: consider the aspects of the cradle Catholic’s experience that, by your own admission, best enable him to understand the experience of the convert. You mention the tears of the confessional, overcoming hardships, etc. Were those things made into public events? By acknowledging the similarity it seems to me you strengthen my point for why baptisms might better be done privately.

“The moment of Baptism is simply one of joy. Sins are extinguished *without being confessed* and *without any subsequent penance* and *without any remaining temporal penalty due for the sin forgiven.* The actual moment of Baptism is to be one of joy, a passage from darkness to light, death to life, etc. For most converting catechumens, I would think that the pain of rebirth simply is not at the actual moment of baptism, but before that, in private. If you really believe that being a public member of the Church is a great joy and is worth it, I don’t see how joining publically would be an unusual burden for most people most of the time, all things being equal.”

Well, again, I don’t really know what’s “typical”, but perhaps I should say a bit more about my own baptism. A number of people, notably my husband (then boyfriend), my godfather, and the members of the CSGT, did much to make it a nice weekend for me, and I was grateful for that. But I couldn’t feel very much joy in the events themselves. It was one of those cases where I believed that I was doing something very much for my good, without that belief having much positive effect on my emotional state. My convictions were pretty firmly settled by that time, but I couldn’t put aside a sort of longing wish that they might have settled somewhere else. During the actual baptism (a fairly lengthy thing in the EF, what with all the exorcisms and such) and confirmation, I mainly remember feeling some mixture of abashed, terrified and ridiculously, pitifully small. I tried to think about outpourings of grace and being cleansed of sin, but I really felt more like someone who had just enlisted in a war, or signed onto a North Pole expedition, or sworn on pain of death to climb Mount Everest. I felt like an immigrant standing on the deck of a departing ship watching her homeland fade finally from view. Becoming Catholic had seemed much more appealing when the prospects for doing so were less immediate.

Again, I haven’t done a survey, but this doesn’t seem to me like such an extraordinary thing. In biography, you find some “happy” conversion stories (Thomas Merton’s, for example) but also some of the grimmer ones (John Henry Newman or GK Chesterton.) The joke was on me, because I remember thinking of Chesterton’s description of conversion (which I read some years before my own), “No, that’s silly, conversion should be happy. If I ever become Catholic I’ll be sure that it’s a sublimely happy day.” Ha ha. As I learned, you can’t dictate such things for yourself.

The real explanation, I think, is that converts, though they’ve received enough graces to allow them to see the truth of the faith, are not yet really enjoying the goods of a Catholic life. It’s hard not to focus on the losses when you’re giving up more tangible and known goods in exchange for rather mysterious ones that you aren’t yet in any position to appreciate. Even those aspects of Catholic life that I badly wanted (most obviously receiving the Body of Christ at Mass) also seemed terrifying as the possibility became more concrete. All this being the case, baptism is not necessarily a joyful experience for the convert himself, though hopefully it can be looked back on with joy later in life, when the Catholic gradually develops a greater appreciation of what was begun at that time.

So yes, I would have disliked it if they had asked me to be baptized in front of the whole congregation. I certainly wouldn’t have asked for an exemption (I felt much too little and abashed to protest anything I was told to do) and I don’t think I would have broken down weeping or anything like that, but I would have felt very awkward and uncomfortable. The whole thing was unnerving enough without a hundred pairs of eyes on me.

But I rather like Maximillion’s suggestion, apparently used sometimes in the early Church, wherein baptism of adults could take place in tandem with the Easter Vigil, but not necessarily in front of everybody, and not as the major focus of the whole evening. It could be done in a separate place, with maybe a few close friends and family, and of course godparents, present. Then the neophytes could rejoin the congregation, perhaps in a sufficiently noticeable way that the point about being received into the community would be made.